Pirates of the Caribbean:  Mist Bound
by Caer of Connacht
Summary: Takes place after OST.  Jack Sparrow is on a search of a legendary sword that just might free his darling Pearl.  Sadly, yet another love-struck, terribly proud young man stands between him and his freedom.  Adventure/Supernatural/Romance.
1. In Which We Witness the Early Years

A/N: I know, I shouldn't start another PoTC story until I finish the first, but I've had this character in my head for months. Had to get her out. And just so you know…never took French. Using an online translator for this, so sorry if I botch the whole thing. Some spoilers from OST later on…

Please note: The 'Hallows' mentioned here have nothing to do with the Deadly Hallows in Harry Potter. 'Hallows' are objects that are set apart to be honored for some reason. For example the Spear of Destiny is considered a 'hallowed' object by Christianity.

Disclaimer: Disney is the owner of all the rights. Damn them. I do not own any characters, names, titles, ships or so forth in this fanfiction. I do not own Yoda, or Kraft products, or dream about hula-hoops. Well…I do dream of hula-hoops…

Chapter One: The Early Years

Jennifer Farrington hated her name. She hated hiding who she was, even if her dear friend and nearly-sister, alias 'Lucy Stewart', was beside her. One day during French instruction, Jennifer Farrington leaned across the aisle and gave Lucy a good poke.

"L'arrêter."

Again, Jenifer poked her friend, this time harder.

"_L'arrêter_." Lucy scooted out of range and continued reciting vocabulary with the rest of the class. Lucy was smart enough to speak French. While their instructor would hardly notice the disruption, he would surely notice if someone spoke English. Jennifer, however, didn't exactly care.

"Stop jabbering and look at me," she hissed. "Are we meeting up tonight or not?"

"…pour courir, pour marcher, pour parler…"

"Are you listening to me?"

"_No._ I am trying to concentrate. Besides, tonight is Wednesday. Biggens watches the door, and he never sleeps. … pour chanter, pour danser, pour crier…"

Jennifer slumped against her desk. Harriet across the aisle gave her a dirty look so Jennifer just stuck her tongue out. Was it really only Wednesday? Biggens be damned, she wasn't about to sit still while her brother swooped into port and left her high and dry again. If it killed her, she's make it on that boat. Even if she had to jump into the bay and swim after it.

"M'excuser, Mademoiselle Farrington, but as I understand it, this is French class, correct?"

Jennifer sat up straight to saw that their senile instructor had finally noticed that she wasn't reciting her vocabulary. "Oui, monsieur. But I hate French."

The was a gasp across the room and 'Lucy' whirled around.

"Ah, if that is the way you feel, then by all means, Mademoiselle, please leave and see the Headmistress. Perhaps she will be more understanding then I.

"Gladly." Jennifer stood, smiled at her nearly-sister, sniffed in the direction of Harriet, _snob of a naval-daughter_, and marched from the room.

This was it. Jennifer worked hard to contain her glee as she marched down the fancy halls of M & R's Ladies' Academy. Her fifth trip to see the Headmistress. Now there was no way the dignified, over-stuffed peacock of a woman would allow her to continue at the school. Her grandfather would have to come and fetch her. Jennifer allowed herself one joyous skip as she walked and smiled as she passed the groundkeeper.

"I see yer in a fine mood today, Miss Jennifer. Could it be yeh've gotten yerself into a wee bit of trouble again?"

Jennifer did nothing more than nod and wink and continue on her way. Mr. Fitch knew well of her plans to get herself expelled. He'd even done her the favor of complaining to the Headmistress about her.

Mr. Fitch chuckled and kept walking, favoring his left side, just barely.

_(break)_

The office of the headmistress was tidy and filled with books. It fit the woman behind the desk better than any room in the school, and she liked it that way. "Really, Jennifer Farrington. Back so soon. Granddaughter of a decorated Naval Captain, and cousin to such a nice young lady as Lucy Stewart. After your brother's last visit, I assumed you had learned your lesson."

Jennifer made a point to roll her eyes, crack her knuckles and sighed, slouching down in the chair.

The headmistress, Mary Gould, was a smart woman. Smart enough to know the game that Jennifer was planning – Hadn't she done it herself so many years ago? – and smart enough to make sure Jennifer had no idea just how much her headmistress knew.

"Clearly, you are hopeless."

Jennifer grinned. "Clearly."

"Rude and obnoxious, and all together too foolish to realize just what you are risking with your impertinent attitude."

"Obviously."

The girl was cheeky, loud-mouth and wonderful. There were ways to get her to listen, and surely, other schools that would be able to beat that grin off her face. But Mary Gould wasn't the kind of Headmistress who would beat her charges, rather than admit defeat. She'd told Lord Farrington the same thing in her most recent letter, suggesting he come and collect his granddaughter, and keep her at home this time.

What Jennifer Anne Farrington needed, if that was even her real name, Mary doubted it was, was a father. Not a lady to govern her. As she so boldly stated to Lord Farrington, he better teach her the ways of the sword, because before long the poor little thing would end up stealing one and probably gutting someone on accident.

Secretly, Mary envied the girl. So free and bold and sparking. If only her father had been anything like Lord Farrington… Absent-minded as always, Mary rubbed and old scar on her arm, from the last time she tried to get expelled on purpose, and looked Jennifer right in the eye.

_Might as well let her know she isn't as smart as she thinks. Teach her something at least._

"I wrote your grandfather three weeks ago, and told him to come for you. He replied fairly quickly, and your brother's ship should be here in a few days." It was worth the world to see a sudden suspicion drop over the little girl's face. _A taste of your own medicine, hmmm, Jennifer?_

"I suggest that you pack your things and say good bye to your friends. Your brother is not the man to linger long in ports where he is only tolerated due to your family's good name."

"But I…I thought…"

Mary raised one, perfect eyebrow and smiled. "You are welcome to think whatever you wish, Miss Farrington. But all your wishing will not change the facts. Once again, your grandfather has decided to remain in the Caribbean and wait for your brother to deliver you. I suggest you move quickly and prepare."

Mary nodded to the door, and kept a stern look in her eye as Jennifer slithered from the chair and crept out from the office.

_Poor little thing. _With that though, Mary turned back to her desk and went back to her bookkeeping.

**Three Years Later**

Jennifer looked over her shoulder and waited. Waited. From the Captain's cabin came a giant shout of rage and Jennifer giggled in victory. The door flew open, but Jennifer already had a line in hand and was half way up to the quarter deck by the time her brother started yanking the rope. By the time he remembered there were stairs up to the quarter deck, Jennifer was already in the shrouds, climbing up into the sails and laughing, head tossed back and eyes bright. The tiny sloop, named _Patience _was altered, with a large captain's cabin and more shrouds attached to the mast, for better, faster reactions by both captain and crew. As a part-time pirate vessel, such things were required, and made pranks fairly easy.

"You brat. You scum! Get down here so I can rattle you, Jenny! I swear I'm going to kill you this time!" From out of the cabin came a moderately amused and terrified Tortugan lady, her hair tumbling down her back and her face paint smudged more that usual. She was one of Collen's favorite…'friends', and he hadn't seen Lily in three long months.

Still, that didn't stop Jennifer from dumping just enough sand in her brother's bed to keep him from enjoying himself. _ That's what you get for leaving me on the boat._

It was petty of her, she knew. But honestly, she was fourteen, wasn't she? She had a sword and could use it, could toss a knife with enough accuracy to impress the crew and could handle being up in the rigging during storms, clearly she could handle herself. And she wasn't naïve, either. She knew perfectly well what went on in Tortuga, and why the men were so relaxed and cheerful when they came back from a night out in the taverns. She gazed out at the town and more than anything, wanted to walk with the rest of the crew, and maybe, drink some rum.

Finally, Lily coaxed Collen back into the cabin, and shut to door firmly. _That was nice of her. It's hard to enjoy the noise and view with him screaming like a scorned woman all night._

But really, Jennifer pulled out a knife and flipped it casually over in her hands, hooking her feet into the lines, just in case she slipped. It wasn't like she was Little Miss _Lucy Stewart_ with her fine clothes and her easy personality. She didn't like dresses or tea, or the polite conversation of a few young gentlemen. She simply hated sitting cooped up in classes while some old windbag talked down at her. Lucy was Lucy, and Jenny was Jenny, and things were just as they were.

Jennifer wished hard and long that one day, she'd have her own vessel, and plot her own course, without her brother, or her cousins, her father or even her dearest friends telling her she was being foolish and childish. Eager to get a glimpse of all she could, Jennifer stuffed her knife back in the sheath on her belt. Loose pants moving against her legs made her restless, and she climbed higher, her shirt feeling too tight against her body as she reached up and up.

Finally, she made it to the spar, and hooked her legs again. This time, she faced the bay and took a deep breath as the wind tossed the black strings of her hair about. _One day, soon, I'll sail all on my own, wherever the wind takes me. And no one will stop me then._

**Two Years Later**

"Here, Jenny, Jenny Bird. Alls `ah wanted was a kiss. Jenny Bird…"

Down in the hold of her brother's ship, Jenny did her best to fix her shirt and quiet her breathing. Her hiding place was only temporary, but with her back to a barrel and her face nearly pressed against the side of the ship, it served.

"Jus`a kiss, Jenny."

_Just a kiss, my ass._ The drunken bastard had ripped her shirt open. She bound her chest every day, wrapped it so damn tight that most people said she could pass for a boy, if it weren't for her hair. And for the most part, the crew treated her like a younger sibling. Shouting a few times when she got carried away, but for the most part they were the same men who were with her brother when he first picked her up for years ago.

Then a storm comes up, and they lose Michael and Richard to the sea, and her brother gets the brilliant idea to hire men without recommendations, 'just to get them where there going'.

_Who would trust anyone named Jacoby and Lutz anyway? Idiot. _

Then he offs and leaves her aboard, as always, with two untested men, and look what happens. All to pick up some blasted, special vintage of rum. _Damn rum. Damn rum and damn bloody, part-time pirates._

"Oh, Jenny Bird," Lutz was getting close. Jennifer reached down and grasped her knife firmly. She'd never killed before. Sure, they taken ships, but Collen had always locked her somewhere dark and safe and boring then. And while the whole crew could attest to her skill, she'd never actually attacked or killed to save her life. Not that she had much choice.

Finally, when she couldn't stand it anymore, she stood.

"Ah, thar` yeh are, Jenny." Lutz took a few drunken steps forward, then leaned against a beam, smiling at her. "Na`w Jenny, I know yeh `ave that knife on yeh. Why don` yeh toss it down an` then we can sit`n`chat awhile, friendly like."

"No. You come any closer, and you won't have anything left to 'sit`n`chat' with. I mean it Lutz." Somewhere in the hold, Jacoby knocked something over and cursed.

Using the distraction, Jennifer kicked over the barrel spilling ale across the floor and slashed at Lutz. He cursed but she didn't wait, hopping over strapped down cargo, she bolted for the stair and hatch, when Jacoby grabbed her knife arm and twisted.

Jennifer screamed and punched him square in the eye with her free hand and scrambled up the stairs. It was more like a steep, tricky ladder, but she was sober and they were drunk. Once she reached the hatch, she slammed it down and cursed David, a lazy carpenter for not fixing the latch properly. She'd have to run for Collen's cabin and hope his pistol was still in the desk drawer, loaded and ready.

Three hours later, Collen came back to his dear _Patience_, singing and carrying on, right until he ascended the gangplank to find the majority of his cabin tossed about the deck, and the cabin door broken into four useless pieces. He signaled his men, not that he had to. They were already spreading out, silent, looking for any sign of Jennifer. They really didn't have to look far.

She was sitting in the galley, hugging her knees. There was blood everywhere, and Jacoby and Lutz piled, dead, one of top of the other tidy in a corner. But the blood…Jennifer's hands were red with it, either that or red from scrubbing so hard with a bristle brush, trying to get the stain off. But now her hands were clean, even if her clothes were stiff with dried blood. She sat calmly, and looked up at her brother when he walked over to her.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Jennifer beat him to it. "They didn't touch me. I killed them first." She stood, wobbling a bit, but she knocked her brother's hands away and glared at him. "Never. _Never _leave me on board again. And if you expect to be forgiven, you'd better find me a proper sword."

Jennifer nodded to the twisted thing on the floor near the bodies. And with just as much attitude, brushed past her brother and left the galley.

Worried, Collen set a course for home that very night after dumping the bodies over board, unmarked and without ceremony.

**One Month Later**

Jennifer sat in her old room, frills and all. Only now the bed was larger, and her mother's old vanity stood where her bookcase once sat. Lucy brushed her hair. Long black and silky. It was really very much like her mother's. Just like the face in the mirror staring back at her. Jennifer hated her face.

"But Jenny, you-"

"Don't call me that…_Lucy_. My name is Gwen."

"But…But your grandfather-"

"He'll get over it." Gwen handed her friend the knife and nodded. "Do it."

Lucy shook her head, "If I'm going to butcher your hair, I'll at least do it the right way."

Lucy walked over to her sewing kit, rubbing her nervous hands over the fine cloth of her dress. She took the moment to look over her best friend and near-sister. The change in her was so strong and so sudden. Had it really been just half a year? _What did they do to her?_

But Lucy shook her head and picked up the fine scissors from her kit. She approached the vanity and took a deep breath. "How short do you want it?"

To demonstrate, she took the knife and hacked off a handful of black silk around her ears. Lucy nodded, forced herself to swallow, and began to cut.

_(break)_

"You cut your hair."

Was that really the only thing he had to say? No apologies, no hugs? She hadn't seen her grandfather in nearly seven years since her first pawned her off on Lucy's mother, then the school, then her brother, and all he had to say was 'You cut your hair'?

"Your bother told me what happened. He is…worried."

"I am fine. No one touched me. There's no reason for me to be here, so you can just tell Collen to mind his words. I can speak for myself."

Her grandfather's eyes went sharp at her tone, and he stood. "Your brother is a fine seaman, and deserves more respect than you are giving him. I agree with his judgment when it comes to cargo and investments. He has a fine head on his shoulders. You will respect him."

"Fine."

"Did you hear me, girl? Respect!"

"Yes, Grandfather."

"Cutting your hair, using your real name. Yes, Collen is worried and so am I. There is a reason we hide who we are-"

"Just come out and say it already. We are pirates and we'll always be pirates." She marched up to his desk and glared him down. "Changing our names does nothing. We hide behind your old wig and honors so people will speak to us, so we won't be arrested, but everyone knows who and what we are-"

"Silence."

"We are pirates. Uncle Morris is a pirate, Collen is a pirate, I-"

"You are over stepping yourself, girl."

"Gwen!" She yelled and slammed a fist on her father's desk. "My name is Gwen, not child, not girl. And _not_ Jennifer. The name was good enough for mother, and it's good enough for me."

Her grandfather didn't move. Didn't speak. For a few seconds, Gwen wasn't even sure he was breathing. He sat down, but his temper was far from over.

"I respect your brother and his decisions. So far he has not stepped wrong."

"Not stepped wrong, how-"

"And I agree with him," he was yelling now, spit flying from his mouth, "That it is in your best interest to keep you here, on shore, until your behavior improves and you have recovered."

"No." It was a whisper. A harsh, horrible whisper. Gwen felt her hands go clammy and her eyesight started to turn grainy. But she fought it off and said harder, "No."

"It has already been decided."

"Not by me," she hissed.

"You are my granddaughter, and as such-"

"Granddaughter? You sure about that? You sure I'm not just another one of your investments? Another one of your precious ships. Ignoring me for years didn't work so now you plan to run my life like it's just another one of you-"

"You will hold you tongue, Gwennan." The both froze when he said _her_ name. He never said her mother's name, not unless he was so drunk he forgot what the blasted woman did to him and his son. His only son. "Gwen. Listen, you must-"

"I must? I must do what? Do what you say? Fine. I will, for now." Gwen walked to the door, imagining that this was how it ended with her father. Grandfather cold and angry, her father all fire yet quiet. She turned back and faced him at the door. "But you can't keep me here for ever. Remember that. I am not yours."

Gwen left, shutting the door behind her. Her grandfather sat, his hands shaking as he reached for his flask. _Damn her_._ Just like her mother. She doesn't even know what she said…_

Henry Morgan drank deeply, trying to forget.


	2. In Which Jack Has A Plan

A/N: Thanks for reading this far! Please enjoy and review.

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything. Too clumsy to steal it, too. Damn mouse.

Chapter Two: Jack Has A Plan

**Present Day**

The place stank of powder, vomit and rum. It was the perfect place to meet a helpful stranger. Or a deadly one. Word was, Barbossa was looking for him. Something about bottle and ships, really the man was quite mad. Jack grinned and took a swig of rum. Bottles of ships, such nonsense. And if Jack did know anything about anything the only anything he'd know was where to find an angry monkey and such an anything could be returned very quickly, if anything was anything at all…or if Jack didn't shoot it first.

A sharp pain at the back of his neck sent his hand up to slap at the skin once again. He was getting welts. Must be bugs. Maybe he'd bathe. Maybe not.

Across the room, Gibbs hailed him. None too happy was he, Jack grinned and drank again. Poor bastard was paranoid. It wasn't like their old friend was cursed, had tentacles or zombies. Calypso might be a Goddess, but she was a nice one. Usually. And she was late.

Gibbs sat, his face serious and an old flask clutched in his hands. "Don't like this Jack. Don't like it at all."

"We take what we can when we can, Mr. Gibbs." He sent his friend a look. "Play nice, and she might even let us live."

"Aye, she might. If she comes at all. No one's had the gall to summon her an` you go off `n demand her to meet you here. She'll not be coming, not unless it's ta` drag you off."

And yet, the tavern door swung open and the quiet was almost instant. The other patrons looked about confused as a strong wind blue in, tasting like straight sea spray off the bow of a ship. Jack inhaled it. Damn, but he missed that smell.

And there was Tia Dalma. Fitting very well back into her human flesh with her beads and bells all about her. She crossed the room, and slowly conversation started up again, only now each sailor…or rather, each pirate kept one eye on Calypso, one hand ready to move towards their gun or sword.

She stood by their table in silence. She gave Gibbs a hard stare and without a word he stood and held out his chair. Calypso smiled and sat. Only then did she speak, and her voice was that of ocean winds and creaking wood, her vowels long, as if they reached across the equator itself to come back to her.

"Jack. I believed you…_called_ me."

"Tia Dalma," he grinned, "It's wonderful to-"

"You'll not be callin` me by that name, Jack Sparrow!"

The wind rose up and pushed him from the bench. There was a scramble as the tavern cleared out. Even Gibbs ran. The coward. Jack stood up and frowned at the sight of his rum, spilled across the filthy floor.

"My rum…"

" 'My rum'," she mocked, " 'My rum! Curse your rum and you, Ja-"

Jack jumped across the table to cover her mouth. "Let's not speak too quickly, Calypso. We both you know are weaker without Barbossa backing you. He left you, didn't he? And the whole of the Brethren Court, save for myself and a few others. You, Goddess, don't have enough followers to keep up theatrics."

Slowly, he drew away, praying that she wouldn't spit his threat back at him. If he was right, he'd be one lucky bastard. If he was wrong, he'd probably die. _I need some rum._

To his great surprise, Calypso did nothing but smile. It was a tight, poisonous smile, but a smile all the same. Then she began to laugh. "Oh, Jack. Yeh'll be in enough trouble without the help of curse from me!"

She cackled until her sides hurt, and then sighed. "What be yeh wanting, Jack?"

Nodding, he sat once again and reach into the sack at his feet, pulling out one bottled ship, which happened to be the Black Pearl, monkey and all. It was always at the top of his pile, just within reach in case he needed to run, and run light.

"This is the work of Blackbeard . A whole bag of wonders, and ships besides the Pearl, bottled and kept like trophies to rot inside salt puddles. With no way to release them."

Calypso reached for the bottle and pulled at it. Jack didn't let go, until she sent him a glare and tapped his hand lightly. "Yeh'll have it back."

He let go.

She observed, nothing more. Then inhaled the air around the bottle itself, and even licked the glass. She jerked back, her eyes wide.

"This…this is an old, old magic here, Jack."

"Can you break it?"

She looked up at Jack and slowly, slowly shook her head. "This," she gestured with the bottle, "This be something I canno` touch. "

"What do you mean, you're touching it now!"

"Jack. Jack." She handed the bottle back to him. "That there be magic not known to me, Jack. I can break it, but likely yeh ship `twould break with it."

Jack pulled the bottle back to him, holding it tightly in his hands, nearly hugging it to his chest. Surely this wasn't it? To finally have the Pearl again, but not to sail her or touch her? What a terrible fate.

"And…yeh be askin` the wrong questions of me, Jack. All the wrong questions."

"Aye?"

"Aye." She leaned in, smiling. "What yeh need to ask Jack, is if I know what_ can_ free the Pearl." She leaned back and waited.

Jack hated Goddesses. Not that Calypso wasn't damn distracting, with her foot running gently against his leg and her eyebrow cocked like a challenge. "Calypso. Would you be knowing what…or who I need to free my ship?"

"Ah, now there be a question, Jack. Tell me, how well do you know the Ladies of the northern waters?"

"…Ladies? Ladies, ladies…" he played with his beard. "Which ones? What country?"

"Erínn, Jack. Yeh'll be needing something older than my kind. Lean clos`a now. Aye, I shall tell you just who and what yeh'll need."


	3. In Which We Have a 'Welsh Princess'

A/N: So now that the back-story is done, bring on the story! And there should be plot here somewhere (looks under the table and sees a very drunk Jack). Well, damn. Who left him there.

Disclaimer: And so, once again Disney owns everything. The pirates, the ships, the castles and the awesome costumes. I do own one awesome costume…but there are no faeries in PoTC…(sigh)

*Please note that my dates were off. I had to make Morgan Gwen's grandfather – sorry for the confusion, but really it doesn't change the story very much.

Chapter Three: The Welsh Princess

Gwen grinned at her nearly-sister. "Want to race?" Not waiting for a reply, she dug her knees into her horse and yelled as the beast took off at a gallop.

Lucy shook her head and smiled. "No thank you," she called out, but Gwen didn't slow down.

The wind stung her eyes but she didn't dare close them. Besides the pounding of hooves and the feeling of her horse beneath her, this, this was almost like hanging off the bowsprit of the _Patience_ again. Her hair flew out behind her, nearly past her shoulders now. She'd have to cut it again, before anyone got too comfortable.

Feeling reckless, she held out her arms and wished, not for the first time, that she had a sturdy pair of wings to set her free. Ever since that terrible argument six years ago, her grandfather kept a tight eye on every boat, and every captain knew to check for stowaways before casting off. It was maddening and impossible.

Every year his grip grew more like a corset, squeezing all the air out of her. But this, the riding and the yelling, this he couldn't stop. Not even if he paid the grooms in gold would they dare to refuse her a ride. They called her the Welsh Princess, and mocked her openly for dressing in pants like a man and keeping her hair short. But all it took was one glance at her sheath or the scars on her hands, and they shut up.

Even chained like a dog, she had power.

Slowly, Gwen eased her horse out of the gallop and worked her down to a trot, and finally a walk. Collen had risked life and limp bringing the Arabian to her, since horses rarely faired well on board for weeks on end. But Trella was an amazing horse. Her grandfather nearly burst when he heard she gave the beast a Spanish name. But it fit, after all. She was white as a star, and it was worth every argument just to see the anger on the old bastard's face.

Finally, Lucy caught up to her. "You're going to break your neck one day if you keep riding like that."

"Maybe I would, if I dressed like you."

Lucy sat well on a sidesaddle, her hair in place and her skirts perfect. Gwen tried her best not to sneer at her nearly-sister's preferences, but sometimes it was difficult. Together, without speaking, they turned their mounts around and headed back for the stables. The estate was set on the cliffs of Jamaica, a good distance from the bustle of Port Royal. Their area was were the less honorable men retired and, supposedly, lived out the rest of their years in peace.

Not that Gwen allowed her grandfather much peace. If she wasn't terrorizing the staff, she made sure to scandalize everyone and act as a constant reminder of just what her family was by dressing as a man. She usually wore scuffed yet sturdy black sea boots with her favorite loose pants that hardly fit her all those years ago, and were always stained white from sea salt. Now they were just the right size, worn brown fabric, soft against her skin.

She usually wore with it a long shirt and vest, either red or brown. She kept stashes hidden around the property, just in case her grandfather dared to toss all her clothes in the fire, like he did a year or so ago.

When Lucy walked about with her, they made quite a pair. And people whispered – The tales they managed to make up! – But none of that bothered either of them. It was just talk, and harmless at that.

Once they were in sight of the house Gwen slowed Trella even more. It was getting late, and grandfather would want her to dress for dinner, what with Lucy and Uncle Morris visiting.

"You know Gwen, maybe if you dressed properly, just for a while, he would stop worrying so much about you. He might even let you travel again."

"Like hell he would."

"Gwen!"

"Oh hush, _Lucy_. It's not like there's anyone to hear."

"Gwen," Lucy sighed and with one hand rubbed her eyebrow. It had been so long Gwen nearly missed it. They'd made up their secret language years ago, so they could mock Collen without him knowing. Nine years since Lucy last made the sign of 'important news' to her. Something was terribly wrong. She reined in her horse and dismounted, glaring until Lucy did the same.

"What?"

"Gwen…it's your grandfather."

"What's he done now?"

"He hasn't done anything yet. That Father will tell me about."

"So what has Morris not told you about? Tell me Annie Morris or so help me God I'll-"

"Don't swear, Gwen. And don't say my name. Not all of us are comfortable screaming to the sky just who our fathers are. The maid with the black hair…."

"Cathleen. The chatty one?"

"Yes, her. She was in the library cleaning-"

"But no one goes in the-"

"I know, Gwen, let me finish please. And slow down. You're not going to like this and it won't go well if you start swearing yourself blue."

"Fine. Cleaning in the library?"

"Yes, well, Cathleen was cleaning in the library talking to one of the other maids, complaining and everything. And for some reason… now don't get too angry, Gwen."

"The only reason I'm likely to get angry is-"

"Hush. For some reason, they believe there is going to be a wedding."

Gwen tossed her head back and laughed, "Of course there's going to be a wedding. And about time too."

Annie/Lucy blushed and looked at the ground. She'd been secretly engaged for nearly three years to a captain in the navy, terrified her father would disapprove only to find out Uncle Morris knew about the whole thing. They were going to be married within the month.

"But Gwen, you know how our family like to… bargain?"

"They don't bargain. They cheat, steal and charm their way in and out of everything. They do wager, but only if the price is high enough to make them both sweat for it."

"Well, yes, but it's more than that Gwen. Your grandfather can't bare to be beaten out of anything and I think, mind you I could be very wrong… but I think he's been planning another wedding. One that will be taking place before mine."

Gwen snorted and would have laughed off the threat, but Annie/Lucy was dead serious.

"No. He wouldn't. He can't." Gwen drew her knife without realizing it and dropped the reins. "I won't let him."

She ran for the house, ignoring Annie/Lucy and the calls of those she ran by, their faces all a blur to her eyes. She needed her pack and she needed her sword. The bastard could plan and plan all he wanted. But she'd make sure none of those plans included her.


End file.
